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Chapter Thirty-Two


The rumors started almost immediately. Pretty much everyone who had even the faintest clue who Z was quickly ruled out the suicide that the authorities were insisting had killed him. "It's like Kurt Cobain all over again," Nick muttered, staring at the computer screen and scrolling through a forum full of musicians discussing the producer's death. Everyone and their mother was implicated in the situation - some pointed wild fingers at Lawrence, Z's partner, others at Hugh Walters, or even Cora - but Nick just shook his head and scrolled through the pages and pages of wild opinions, and muttered quietly to himself.

Personally, I wasn't sure what to think. I didn't know the guy really enough to form an opinion, and, to be honest, after missing the pretty huge bit about him being gay and accusing him of having an affair with Cora, I was too scared to voice any further errs. So I listened to Nick like a sounding board as he talked on and on and on all weekend about his personal insights and theories.

The bottom line was the case was closed but nobody was willing to let it go.

Nick received an invitation to Z's funeral from Lawrence, who said that Z would've liked it if I came, too. "He thought the bagels and guitar strings day was hilarious, he really did," Lawrence told Nick, and Nick relayed the message to me. I felt even worse because when Z had brought it up at Addison's audition we'd been so quick to defend me when really the guy just thought it was a hoot.

The day of the funeral, Nick put on a black suit and stood in front of my bathroom mirror, adjusting his tie. I came in behind him and put my arms around him as he tightened and loosened the thing, trying to make it hang just-so. He sighed and pressed his palms on the counter top and stared down into the sink, his eyes sad and a defeated sort of vibe emanating from him.

"You okay?" I asked.

Nick wiped his eyes. "i'm... frustrated, I guess..." he mumbled.

"Frustrated?"

"People work all their fuckin' lives and it gets taken away like this..." he snapped his fingers. "Why bother?"

"Because where would we be if we didn't work all our lives?" I asked, "If we didn't pursue passions and have ambition?"

Nick shrugged. "Who knows, but who says we wouldn't all be better off without the money and the fortune and fame? It changes people. Look at your friend. Less than a week and she's already crumbling. It ruins things. It kills people." He ducked away into the hall and left me standing there in the bathroom alone. I heard his footsteps fade down the hall.

I took my time getting ready to give him some space. When I went down the hall to the living room, Nick was sitting in the chair next to the couch staring down at his phone, the stereo playing a local radio station that was playing back-to-back hits that Z had produced in tribute to him. Nick looked up from his phone when I came in the room. "It doesn't kill all people," I said, as though there hadn't been an hour-long pause in the conversation.

Nick sighed, "I know," he said.

"It didn't kill you."

"Came damn close," he said.

"But it didn't," I replied. I studied him a second. "Is there something else bothering you?" I asked.

Nick shook his head, but in a way that I knew something else was bothering him. But I didn't press it any further because he obviously didn't wanna talk about whatever it was. I picked up my keys and my purse. "We don't wanna be late," I told him.

Nick stood up followed me out the door. "I'll drive," he said suddenly, redirecting me to the Escalade that still stood parked in my driveway. I wasn't sure I wanted to ride with him again while he was upset after the recklessness of the last ride we'd taken, but against my better judgement I followed him to his car and climbed in.

A quick, thankfully uneventful drive later and Nick parked in front of Z's house. There were already several cars parked in the driveway and along the street out front so that by the time we got there, we drove past the house and parked almost a block away on the side of the road and walked back. Nick pointed out cars to people he recognized - a lot of big celebrities were there, I realized, and I felt out of place all of a sudden, but Nick grabbed my hand just as we reached the bottom of the driveway and snaked his fingers through mine and led me up to the house.

Lawrence answered the door when Nick rang the bell and waved us in. "Hey Nick," he had a terribly bereft expression on his face. He glanced at me, "Hey Fiesty," he said, the slightest smile playing his lips.

"I'm really sorry man," Nick said. He shook Lawrence's hand.

"Very sorry," I added when Lawrence turned to shake mine, too.

Lawrence nodded. "Thanks. Help yourself to some food, on the breakfast bar. Most everyone's outback." He waved us on.

Nick and I walked through the house and I looked around. There was a lot of art and old books and antique looking gadgety things like a hand held telescope and an old antique chair hanging up on the wall. Nick led me through several rooms to a kitchen with a wide breakfast bar, where a buffet style spread had been set up. Hugh Walters was lingering by it, a plate with a couple squares of cheese and a pickle held aloft, looking down at a trayful of sandwiches in contemplation. Hugh looked up as Nick and I walked over. Nick's eyes narrowed. "Hello, hello," Hugh greeted us both.

"Hey," Nick answered. He hovered as I reached forward and shook Hugh's hand, though Nick didn't offer a fist bump or anything. He just stood there.

"Oh don't tell me you think I did it, too," Hugh laughed. "I've gotten so many dirty looks today... I traced most of them to internet rumors." He shook his head, a slight smirk to his face. "I never would've killed Justin," he said, "Insulting they'd even think it. Especially given what a shoddy job of it they've done."

"I know better than to think you'd get your hands that dirty," Nick said, smirking as Hugh wiped his hands with a handerchief he'd withdrawn from his pocket.

Hugh smiled. "At least one person's got faith in me." He turned to me. "Aren't you Addison's friend?" he asked.

I nodded, although part of me wanted to say that I wasn't sure if I was anymore or not, given all his stupid wife had done to change her. Hugh said, "She's outback somewhere with Cora."

"Thanks," I answered. Mental note to self, avoid going somewhere outback.

Nick turned to the food and started picking bits he wanted, filling a plate, ignoring Hugh's presence. Hugh stared at him for a long moment, then said to me, "Are the two of you... together?"

"I'm his personal assistant," I replied.

Hugh laughed, "In LA, honey, that means yes." He turned and walked away, leaving Nick and I alone as Nick loaded up his plate.

"We gotta call that place," he said, "They're serving the dumplings here. Don't wanna have the same food at both parties. They're too close together, they'll think I called and got a number."

I stared at the dumplings piled on his plate.

"Don't forget," he added, and he walked away.